


My Favourite Font is Times New 'Ramen'

by phanetixs



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Chef AU, M/M, Sexual Tension, TW: MCR, enemies to sort of lovers I guess, mentions of Gerard Way - Freeform, oh so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanetixs/pseuds/phanetixs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"esteemed rival chefs find each other shamefully buying ramen at 3 in the morning" AU</p><p>also alternatively called the noodle fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Favourite Font is Times New 'Ramen'

**Author's Note:**

> This is for P, whose birthday was a few days ago, but has to settle for this late thing I wrote half-asleep. (It's apparent here that I treasure your friendship immensely). Your first words were probably variations of "o shit whaddup" and you listen to me talk about the evil letter 'v' whilst we torture ourselves with Math and I guess I'm not good with words but you're fantastic, that's all I'm saying. 
> 
> ("I'm writing you gay fluff for your birthday" "Oh, my favourite kind") 
> 
> Selamat Hari Jadi, kawan #16

It’s been a bad everything. But there’s wine, so everything’s marginally better.

 

The night dwindles on and before Dan knows it, he's flat out drunk. He’s been lucky as of yet, only tempted to call his ex-boyfriend only once so far. Okay, maybe _twice_ but his self-restraint is admirable _._ It all started because of the Great British Bake Off funnily enough (no, it actually started because of work but Dan won’t talk about that now because _ugh_ ), Mary Berry’s incessant criticism for his favourite, Puja from Lancashire, put him in a bad mood immediately. _No, those croissants weren’t great, they were bloody amazing_ , he half-shouts at the telly as he tops up his fourth glass of _Chardonnay_ that night.

 

(He refuses to admit but the nice, expensive wine actually came from Philip Lester, an implied _hah suck it loser_ after he was bumped up to Head Chef. At least he has the wine, nonetheless. One good thing Phil has done for Dan, surely.)

 

Then, afterwards, he’d checked his Facebook ‘Recommended Page’ and seen that two of his exes got into a relationship _with each other._ He snorts again. At least he brought two star-crossed lovers together (not directly, obviously, but he’d like to think that remnants of his dick in the both of them somehow hinted to the fact that they belonged with each other. This isn’t a serious conversation. Dan’s a bloody chef not a _biologist)._

So, can you really blame him for wanting to wallow in wine and forget about his miseries? It seemed like the smarter decision evidently, his list comprising of _become new Mary Berry_ and _start a matchmaking service for all my exes_ because it’s just that kind of night. He’ll be waking up with a hella bad hangover tomorrow but it’ll all be worth it, he thinks, as he quickly taps on the ‘Like’ button ( _no, Facebook, he does not want to add a heart-eyes reaction to the situation)_ on the picture because that’s his new drunken mantra; let alcohol fuck up your life, at least it wouldn’t be your fault for once. He tips the wine glass back and gulps down what’s left of his wine (and dignity).

 

He glances at the tiny clock hung above his telly and sees the clock just about strike 3 a.m. He is suddenly struck with the urge to eat some hot Chinese noodles because he just needs some release? He has no good reason, honestly, and who does he have to persuade? Jesus? The guy put him in this situation in the first place. (Also, in retrospect, Dan having to go out and buy some instant noodles is laughable. It’s almost like he _didn’t_ spend 5 years at culinary school and doesn’t work at the five-star French place downtown). 

 

He switches off Mary Berry, maybe (hopefully) shoves his wallet down the front pocket of his staple black jeans and stumbles out into the night. The streets are empty, predictably, only the pale lamp of the streetlights guiding him to the nearest 7-11 closest to his flat. The bright sign of the 7-11 flashes above the store, a stark comparison to the dark of the city. It’s like he’s at the gates of heaven. (Dan tends to get dramatic after two drinks, bear with him). 

 

He pushes a ‘pull’ only door but finally makes it into the store and he’s first greeted _emphatically_ by the unimpressed cashier. She goes back to buffering her nails once she ascertains that he’s not about to rob her. Dan _couldn’t_ act all cool, and thief-like, even if he tried, honestly. 

 

He spots the familiar row of red and purple cups and tries his best not to _run_ to it. His drunkenness has worked up quite an appetite. It takes him a while to look through the different brands, the sea of _Maggi_ s and _Mi Sedap_ s blurring together. There is a figure hovering beside him, he knows, but it’s only when there is a long hand stretching out to grab a cup does Dan finally acknowledge its presence.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he says aloud, slightly startled.

 

“Nope, just Phil,” the voice says and this is his _doom,_ the epitome of his failure as a chef definitely, to be caught buying ramen from a 7-11 chain by none other than his nemesis, Phil Lester. Everything is silent as if the whole universe is waiting for _something_ to happen.

 

Dan goes still and he feels sober as heck all of a sudden. It’s a welcome change, Dan needing his bearings back to instinctually defeat Phil in some way. 

 

Dan smirks, “Oh, Phil, what are you doing here then?” and then internally cringes because it’s obvious what he’s doing. He has two cups of Ramen in his hands. Dan doesn’t feel so embarrassed for his late-night guilty drunk pleasure after all. 

 

Phil pauses and his blush is visible against his pale white skin. Dan would almost call it _cute_ but it’s _Phil_. And not to mention that he was the reason Dan screwed up at work today in the first place. 

 

 _“Pass me the cilantro, Chef Phil,” Dan’d asked Phil politely_ (for once) _earlier that day. He’d been in the midst of cooking up a mean Coq au Vin when he’d realised that he completely forgot the herb. The other cooks, Louise included, were all busy with at the front, plating and double-checking orders. Phil was his last option, literally._

 

 _Phil glanced at him slightly, and to Dan’s surprise, he’d said, “Yeah, give me a sec.” He handed Dan some green herb and Dan’s not sure if he muttered a_ thanks _afterwards._

 

_As it turns out, he didn’t have to._

 

Dan winces at what happens next.

 

 _“Chef Dan, why was there parsley in the dish that_ you _made?” Lady Estelle had questioned him after his shift that day._

 

_“It was cilantro, was it not? It tastes the same,” he’d retorted stupidly and felt a surge of confidence because Phil definitely passed him the cilantro, right? Phil wouldn’t fuck something up for him on purpose, right? The most he could do was a lame insult and making better panna cottas. Surely he wouldn’t have escalated to sabotage?_

 

_One look and Dan’s resolve had crumbled immensely._

 

_“No, and don’t question my expertise, Chef Dan. I control your career-“ Dan hadn’t heard her of course, he was busy side-eyeing Phil._

 

And sure, Phil had apologised profusely afterwards, “It was a mistake, Chef Dan, promise”  but being humiliated by your scary boss deserves more than just _some_ apology. 

 

“Phil-“ he asks sweetly, evilly- “were you buying ramen from a 7-11 chain?” and there’s a split second when he realises that he is about to do the exact same. _Stupid, stupid._

 

Phil picks up on the hypocrisy. “Oh, why are you standing in front of the ramen rack as well, then?” Dan half-listens because he’s preoccupied with the fact that the _Ramen Rack_ would be a a great emo band name. He then imagines Phil with Gerard Way hair.

 

He giggles to himself.

 

“Dan?”

 

He blurts out, “Imagine yourself with bright red hair, Phil. Just _imagine_ ,” and realises that his drunkenness is making an unfortunate comeback. He feels his words twist together in his head and he has no control over what he’s saying.

 

Phil grins. “I’d think I’d look pretty hot,” and he fashions his hair into a quiff and Dan’s reeling with laughter, gasping even because with alcohol everything is funnier. Phil continues grinning.

 

“Gerard Way would tap that ass.” _Oh yeah, he actually said it._

 

“Dan? Mate, y’smashed or what?” Phil asks him, looking earnest and there goes what’s left of his dignity. Having Phil find him drunk _and_ buying ramen at 3 a.m. He’s lost the game of life, he bows out gracefully.

 

“Phil-“ he puts a hand on his shoulder as if he’s about to give him some life advice (he’s actually having some trouble keeping upright), and says- “mind your own business, yeah?”

 

He tries to make a dramatic exit, true to his theatre-boy upbringing, but then alarm bells go off (both metaphorically and in real life, Dan’s all too familiar with the signs of bad decision-making). Dan halts immediately and looks down to find an unpaid cup of ramen in his hands and turns to see a very _very_ angry cashier glaring daggers into him.

 

There is a pause.

 

“Um, yeah- totally going to pay for this,” he says quickly and fishes out a couple of pounds. There is still a Phil shaking with laughter at the corner. “Shut up,” he mutters aloud and both the cashier and Phil say simultaneously, “Rude.”

 

Yes, a bad day indeed.

 

+

 

Phil catches up with him as he dejectedly makes his way home. He looks flushed under the amber of the streetlights and Dan wonders if  he ran all the way from the 7-11. “Hi,” he says, slightly out of breath.

 

“Okay, what? Stalker alert: leave me alone,” Dan says and he’s not sure if that even makes sense. He’s way past caring though. He has his ramen so he’s more or less at peace with the events of the night.

 

“No, come on, wait, stop walking so fast,” Phil tries to say and Dan huffily turns around at him. “Look Dan, you’re drunk and it’s so late that it’s early and come on, let me walk you home.” His eyes look bright under the pale lights.

 

Dan’s so tempted to say _no_ , _fuck off Phil_ but the words don’t feel right for the moment and there’s this genuine worry in Phil’s eyes that tell Dan that he’s not going away any time soon.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he finally says and begin their walk to Dan’s flat (positioned too far away for Dan and his inability to sustain a proper conversation with someone, not even _Phil,_ who he’s used to insulting on a daily basis). “Um, so, why were you out buying noodles at 3 a.m. anyway, loser?”

 

Phil shrugs easily. “I was up watching Mary Berry-“ Dan grins at that, “-and I totally forgot dinner and so,” he gestures towards the ramen.

 

“The true peak of our culinary careers for sure,” Dan mutters under his breath and Phil laughs at that. It comes out deep and guttural, a vast juxtaposition to the eerie silence of the night. 

 

“Can you imagine Lady Estelle bumping into us in there? She would’ve been like-“ he puts on his over-exaggerated French accent- “ _you boys together buying noodles? Shame on you”._ Dan agrees and can’t help but laugh at how amazingly accurate that was. 

 

His body curls into Phil’s as he laughs and it’s weird how Phil just places a hand around his shoulders and pulls him close. Maybe it isn’t weird. What if it’s comfortable. Dan’s mind goes into full gear as gets close enough to hear the beating of Phil’s heart, warm and not icy at all. Maybe Phil isn't _so_ bad after all.

 

He shifts his body so they’re strolling with their arms around each other and Dan reasons, “I’m drunk,” and Phil moves to pull him closer. “Dan?”

 

 _Hmm- oh wait he asked me a question._ “Where do you live, mate?”

 

Dan pulls out of their embrace (albeit reluctantly) and spots his flat around the corner. “M’flat is over there,” he tells Phil and he swears he sees a drop in his expression. He walks Dan right to his doorstep regardless, because _hey I’m a true Northerner, excuse me._

 

“Um, so, thanks for uh-“ he vaguely points at the door behind him. He outstretches his hands to pull Phil into a hug but he mistakes it as a handshake so there’s this awkward goodbye outside their door at 3 a.m. _Great._

 

“See you tomorrow?” Dan asks finally, looking insecure because _fuck,_ maybe he’s warming up to Phil after all. He should cringe, feel embarrassed at the shift in feelings towards his _foe_ but he couldn’t care less at this point. 

 

“Yeah,” Phil nods and the door shuts.

 

Two minutes later, there is are two knocks on the door. Dan’s slightly annoyed that he has to _walk_ back downstairs to answer the _bloody_ door that late and Dan’s prepared to go all Hulk on them (with Dan’s track record, it wouldn’t threaten even a _fly)._ That is until he sees who’s at the door.

 

“I don’t care that you insult me,” Phil says just as the door swings open, again breathless and oh so _pretty._

 

And okay, _what_?

 

His face must betray the state of confusion he’s in and then Phil continues. “I like how you hum when you cook, especially omelettes, and the times you feed the stray cats that come to the back door sometimes. You run your hands through your hair and I think about it for hours afterwards. It’s not- I mean,” Phil stutters towards the end and Dan paralysed in shock.

 

“Oh god, I’m not a stalker or anything it’s just- tomorrow we might go back to being strangers again and I can’t do _that,_ I guess the whole point of this waffle is-“

 

“You like me,” Dan concludes and then the tension in the air is palpable. 

 

Phil’s jaw drops open slightly.

 

“You’ve always been so much smarter,” Phil teases half-heartedly and Dan realises it’s because Phil thinks _this_ has always been one-sided.

 

It hits him.

 

Dan begins, “I don’t know much but I do know that you were the one person who helped out on my first day at work. You were there through the not-promotions, the break-ups, the Lady Estelle telling-offs, which were mostly _your_ fault by the way,” Phil’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. _Inappropriate, it’s February._

 

“And I probably like you too, which is funny,” he says and Phil pulls a face afterwards. That’s enough to get Dan to pull him by the lapels on his jacket and plant a firm kiss on his lips, warm and happy. Phil pulls away all too soon and swings the plastic bags of ramen in front of his face, tongue peeking out.

 

“We’ll need some energy first for the things I’ll be _ramen_ in you later.”

 

Okay, that might have been the _worst_ pun in the history of ever but they don’t end up going to work the next day, much to Lady Estelle’s _horror_ , so everything’s really perfect.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu with weird prompts on my tumblr @phanetixs! Also, on Twitter, I'm @yeukalyptus. Come say hi! Hope you all have a nice day!


End file.
